Dear Yesterday,
How you seem to elude me,
With your singing songs and painted pictures;
Whether you will be missed or forgotten, I don’t seem to know.
I wonder how you can be,
Forever holding pieces of the past.
I knew a few who seem to hold you dearly,
Wishing for your art to last.
You’re a little funny,
I know not; worlds to remember, worlds to forget.
Those who desperately reach for you,
Those who desperately run from you.
How you seem to elude me,
So full of your happiness, so full of your sorrow.
A library of fluttering books, everything we leave behind.
In the end,
I know not….
Maybe I should reach for you, maybe I should run from you.
Sincerely,
Today
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